


One of Those Universal Translator Failure Fics

by reallyamerica



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Aliens Made Them Do It, Case Fic, Dialogue Heavy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluffy, Foreign Language, Games, Gen, Gift Fic, Gift Work, It's For a Case, M/M, Miscommunication, Miscommunication as a plot device bc I like being annoying, Missions Gone Wrong, Mistranslation, Misunderstandings, Sci-Fi technology Gone Wrong bc that's My Brand, Trials, Undercover as a Couple, Workplace Relationship, canon divergent a little because this was completely and utterly a goofy thing I wrote in one go, im literally just putting random tags at this point sorry okay just read the thing, instead, like pwp but just dialogue I wanted to write self indulgently, too much dialogue, treknology, universal translator problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyamerica/pseuds/reallyamerica
Summary: This really is one of those universal translator failure fics— in other words, the translator not successfully translating an alien language's word leads to Jim and Spock in a fake-dating scenario for diplomatic purposes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sizzlingtragedyengineer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sizzlingtragedyengineer).



> I haven't posted anything in forever and this is my first spirk and my first Star Trek fic I'm posting anywhere so, uh, here I go???
> 
> This was a gift for Lexi @ sizzlingtragedyengineer.tumblr.com because she's the only person I have irl who regularly freaks out about Star Trek with me, and she had an idea and I'm nice like that. Anyway, hope ya enjoy the resulting garbage !!!

In low-orbit around a new planet, one that had contacted the Federation seeking to begin the long process of application and all the negotiations it would take in order to join, the U.S.S. Enterprise hummed with activity. A new message had just been transmitted to the ship from the planet’s surface, and the Captain was eagerly waiting to hear what it said.

“Is the universal translator working, yet?” Jim Kirk asked, leaning over the seated and at work Nyota Uhura, to peer at her console, impatient. The Lieutenant had a hand over the earpiece she was wearing.

“Yes,” she paused, eyes narrowing, “it’s just coming through in Federation Standard, now. The Cupiozinths send their welcome, and are requesting that any diplomatic party be a pair. Much of the message includes the details that Starfleet already provided us after the preliminary contact, but they're expressing their enthusiasm about meeting our pair of representatives. They're very adamant about that, they want our emissaries to be as a pair, to beam down as a pair, to meet the Cupiozinth delegates as a pair.” Jim rubbed his chin.

“So, not just me, then. I got it. Let Spock know I need him, tell him to get out of the labs and meet me in the transporter room with a bag packed in an hour. I'll go log the change of plans.”

“Yes, sir.” Uhura replied crisply, back to business.

Jim took the turbolift to the lower decks and ambled to his quarters, briefly saying hello to and chatting with various crew members along his way. Once inside his cabin, he tossed several uniforms and other clothes and necessities into a duffel bag. Changing into his dress uniform, he neatened up his hair, sat on the edge of his bed, and pulled out his PADD to make official note of the aliens’ newly added specific stipulation. He started to fill out prior mission reports that he hadn't finished just to kill time, as well, when he heard the chime sound of someone requesting to enter the room.

“Come on in,” he called. The door of the connecting bathroom between his quarters and his first officer’s next door opened with a swish, and Spock came through.

“Captain,” the Vulcan greeted. Jim looked up from his work. He grinned.

“You're early. All packed already?”

“Yes. I came to ask if any other details were provided as to the aliens’ insistence upon a diplomatic party of two.” Spock tilted his head slightly as he spoke, and Jim stood up. He folded his arms.

“No,” he shook his head, “they didn't really say why. I’m guessing it's just a cultural thing. Do you not want to come with?” Jim raised his brows at the other.

“That is not it, I do wish to join you.” Spock began. “I will make use of our time on the surface to observe the planet’s inhabitants firsthand. And I am pleased that I was selected, despite the fact that our xenolinguistics officer may have been a better choice. I just find the two person requirement curious, as we have had diplomatic missions that required a large group or a security team, or which could be sufficiently completed with you alone, but we have not previously been asked so insistently for a set of precisely two to act as ambassadors. It is interesting to me.” He explained, still standing near where he'd come into the room. Jim motioned for him to have a seat on a nearby chair, and after a moment of standing still with a hint of consideration on his stoic face, Spock complied.

“It is a little odd, or unique, or whatever. Maybe we can ask them about it, if there's a societal significance or something with pairs for them, y’know?” Jim shrugged. 

“Of course I will ask them if they are willing to explain, Jim. I am always seeking to gather as much information as possible.” Said Spock in an almost confused way. Decidedly not rolling his eyes, Jim just looked at Spock.

“Yeah, I know. Do you have the portable universal translation equipment?”

“Yes.” The Vulcan held out his hand, on which sat two metal boxes each with a clip with which to attach them to their uniforms. Jim plucked one from his palm and started fiddling with it, watching as Spock smoothly placed his at his collar. Seeing that his Captain was struggling, he took over for the human and secured the device in place. 

“Thanks.” Jim blinked at the sudden closeness of the other and the subsequent quick loss of it when Spock finished clipping the unit onto him, before he spoke again. “These things are set up to work with Vulcan, right? You could speak your first language for a change, if so, if you wanted.” Jim suggested with a soft smile. A strange look flickered in Spock's dark eyes.

“They are equipped to translate to and from Vulcan, but as this is an official Starfleet ambassadorial-type mission I believe it would be unprofessional of me to communicate in a language other than Standard or that of the aliens in question, and as the latter is impossible as we have not acquired all the language data needed to properly learn Cupiozinian and practice pro—”

“Of course. I understand, Spock. If you ever want to borrow one of these and speak Vulcan on the bridge and have more of us than just Uhura understand you, though, the offer stands. Now, get your stuff, let's get to the transporter room. Okay?”

A short walk down a corridor and a turbolift ride later, the two men walked into the transporter room and quickly got into their places on the pad. After Jim’s “Energize,” in a tone that was obviously excited despite the professionalism that was being used to attempt to mask it, the familiar fizzling of light caused them to vanish from the ship and appear in a pretty, crowded marble hall.

Chatter from the aliens, who, while bipedal and mostly humanoid, possessed faces which vaguely resembled Terran dolphins, ceased upon their arrival. Stunned silence followed while they studied the Human and the Vulcan. Jim and Spock exchanged a look.

“Greetings, Captain and Commander, we were informed by your officer of communications that it would be the two of you that would come down to our planet. We are honored by your presence.” The translators echoed the snuffs and clicks that the one of the Cupiozinth leaders spoke, playing just loud enough that Spock and Jim could make out what was being said but not so loud that it entirely drowned out the ( _incredibly_ foreign) foreign language.

Jim stepped forward, shoulders straight, a kind smile on his face. Spock remained behind, eyes scanning and absorbing.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. My name is James Tiberius Kirk, the Captain you have been informed of, and this is my first officer Commander Spock. We are thrilled to be spending time here to learn about your culture and discuss what the Federation has to offer.” Muffled murmuring that the translation devices couldn't pick up ensued throughout the room, until one of the leaders said something again.

“Quiet, everyone.” The Cupiozinth addressed their people, before turning back to the two Starfleet officers. “In our society, pairs are very important. How long have the two of you been a pair?” Jim glanced at Spock as this question was asked.

“Uh, well. We first started working together in recent years. Is that what you mean?” Jim listened as the translator coughed out his response in the breathy sounds and clicks and squeals of Cupiozinian. Concern (or at least, that's what it seemed to be to Jim) colored the aliens’ faces.

“Do you not pair together? We told your ship that we require paired diplomats. We will only communicate with a pair, that is the only thing we can and will tolerate. Anything else is inappropriate for us. If you are not a pair you must return to your vessel and leave us. You must be a pair. _Are you or are you not a pair_?” The sentences sounded increasingly frantic as they spewed from the Cupiozinth’s mouth and burped through the translators into Federation Standard, and Jim’s eyes widened and he raised his hands.

“One moment please, our translation equipment can only work so quickly.” He stated rapidly, spinning around to face Spock. Panick was brewing but had not quite set in. He dropped his voice low, so that the sound pickup on the device he was wearing wouldn't hear him, but not so low that his first officer couldn't. “I think we’re missing something, here. Theory?”

“Each one of the aliens in this room is, as the Terran phrase goes, ‘attached at the hip’ of one of the others, and their direct and constant physical contact suggests, by the standard of most recorded non-asexual and non-aromantic humanoid species’ cultures, that they are romantically– and likely sexually as well– involved. I would conclude that their meaning of the word pair is different from ours and a closer cognate would be ‘couple’.” Spock suggested at an equally quiet volume. Jim’s mouth hung open, and then snapped shut and he furrowed his brows.

“We've got to get out of here, then. I don't think they're very willing to compromise on their standard, and I don't think they're going to be very happy with us when they find out we don't meet it, either.” Jim left the ‘unfortunately’ that followed the ‘we’ in his mind unsaid, and started to reach for his communicator, but stopped abruptly when Spock grabbed his arm.

“Captain, I think it is unlikely that they will be open to future Federation diplomats if we leave without a word or if we reveal that we are not as they thought we were, initially. It would be a tremendous disappointment to Starfleet if we failed to form a positive relationship with the people of Cupiozinth, as, I am certain I do not need to remind you, this planet’s geological makeup is incredibly dilithium rich. We have not found deposits as large as the ones we detect here in any of the systems where the Federation currently has favor, and we do not yet have any treaties with these people. Nor does anyone else, but that remaining the case cannot be counted upon. To leave would be a significant loss.” The Vulcan spoke at a blindingly fast pace, and Jim blinked at him.

“What're you proposing?”

“Assuring them that we will not disappoint is critical, and I believe that the primary thing we must prove to them in order to establish trust is that we understand what is inarguably a key part of their society, that being the immense importance that they evidently place on the concept of ‘pairs’.”

“So we have to pretend to be one. A couple, that is. We have to act like we're dating.” Jim's words dripped with disbelief.

“It should not be difficult, as they do not know much about Terran behaviors and they know nothing at all about Vulcan culture. They will expect a closeness, and perhaps will ask questions, but we should not need to provide anything that will cause any distress or discomfort or require us to exceed professional boundaries.” Spock looked as unphased as ever, and Jim swallowed thickly.

“But that's lying, Spock.”

“You can lie overtly, and I will merely imply. If we are caught, however, I will take responsibility.”

“I'm the Captain, everything is my responsibility.”

“A valid point.” Jim groaned at Spock's agreement. He rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and locked eyes with the Commander.

“You sure about this?”

“I am convinced that this course of action is the best that is available at present.” After a brief moment of hesitation Jim thought _fuck it_ and sighed.

“Alright, then.” With that, Jim put his arm around Spock's waist, and faced the waiting Cupiozinths with all the confidence and collectedness he could muster. He didn't see the hint of green tinging the tips of the Vulcan’s ears as he cleared his throat. “We resolved what we found to be an issue with our translators, and we are prepared to answer any questions you have and continue this diplomatic meeting.” His statement hiccuped out in Cupiozinian, and as the aliens looked at the position that he and Spock were now standing in and heard what he said, he could swear he saw relief wash over their dolphin-esque faces.

“You and your Spock are a pair?” One of the Cupiozinths, who was clutching their other half in suspense, asked in search of clarification.

“Of course! Don't we seem like we are? Or are our cultures too dissimilar to yours to make it clear? No need to worry, I'm sure that while we’re here we can teach you about the way that pairs work in our societies, just as you will teach us more about yours. Shall we start talking business?” An alien leader considered this before they replied.

“First we will have a feast in your honor. Tomorrow will be a day of celebration, closed with a ball, and the third day we will spend entirely dedicated to diplomacy. We feel that socializing is the way to begin a proper introduction between the Federation and our dear planet. Do you not agree?”

“If that is in accordance with your customs regarding similar events, we are grateful and more than willing to indulge.” Spock answered, this time.

“Wonderful! Follow us to the banquet hall!” 

The pairs began to flood from the room, and Jim and Spock followed suit. Neither said a word as they went, but they walked in tandem, tightly enough that their shoulders stayed touching the entire way. Upon arrival at their destination, they were lead to a pair of chairs at the head of a very large table. The chairs were connected by a short bar, so the two had to take their seat and scoot in together, and their arms were still flush all the while.

They watched without a sound as enormous, glittering platters of food were brought out in a steady flow until there was barely enough room for their own plates and glasses. Words were said that sounded like a prayer in Cupiozinian, and then everyone began to eat. Jim and Spock did not, however, as there was something they had not been informed. All of the pairs that sat around the table had linked their inner arms together, and were feeding each other with their free hands. As the seconds ticked by since Spock and Jim hadn't dug in right away, more and more of the nearest couples turned to peer at them expectantly. Jim offered his arm following a shrug, and Spock looped his elbow around it, and they both went for their respective sets of flatwear. Cutting a slice of something that seemed akin to Terran poultry for Jim, Spock watched as Jim speared a leafy green of some sort and held it out to him. They opened their mouths and took their respective bites.

After several minutes of uncoordinated struggle, they got the hang of the dual eating style, and were able to resume casual conversation with the Cupiozinths between forkfuls of the exotic meal. While, at first, they seemed satisfied by small talk about the food that had been served, it wasn't long before their questions shifted and became more personal. 

“Do your species both pair for life?” Jim snorted into the cup that Spock was holding up for him to sip at hearing this, and coughed heartily as Spock set the drink down and held a napkin up for him to dab his face against.

“Uhm, well, no. Not always.” Jim cleared his throat. “Some do, however. It depends on the pair, and relationship setups differ as well. Some people are not into pairs, some people prefer their partnerships to be open, some people have closed relationships but that consist of more than two members. Human love, like, and lust varies drastically from one individual to another, and our relationships are incredibly diverse.” He answered, peeking at Spock as he did so. The Vulcan stared straight ahead. The Cupiozinths looked skeptical, and turned to Spock hoping for something better. He finished refolding the napkin before he took his turn.

“My species has a strong dichotomy when it comes to the matter of love, and to pairs specifically. We do not put a very great emphasis on such things, as a general rule, and a large number of Vulcan relationships are based entirely on mutual societal benefit, mating needs, and the production of offspring, rather than pure emotional connection, and not just occasionally entirely in absence of such a sensitive notion. However, we also recognize true love to be incredible in it’s power and significance. This is because it is one of the very few things that are beyond our total comprehension, as we have yet to discover how to rationally explain something that transcends all we know about space and time, and sometimes even our rigid adherence to our practice of pure logic. And when a bond of that degree forms, yes, it is for life, though such potent bonds are uncommon.” Jim opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly as Spock elaborated, feeling utterly rife with shock. The closest pair of Cupiozinths seemed completely moved.

“Then you two are paired for life. That is good, good. We always pair for life, here, so it is satisfying to know that similar pairing is something that does happen elsewhere in the galaxy, even if it is rare.” Jim tightened his arm’s link with Spock’s to keep from wobbling in his seat upon listening to the alien draw up conclusions. And they weren't even done with their interrogation yet. “Tell us, how did the two of you first come to know one another?”

Pulling himself together for the time being, Jim managed to smile wickedly and lean forward. “We met because I was trouble back when I was in school at Starfleet Academy. I cheated on a test that he programmed in order to prove a point, and he almost got me expelled.” Spock raised a single pointed eyebrow at the human.

“You neglect to mention that it was not long after that situation that we both were thrown into a crisis and had to fight to save Earth and the Federation, during the process of which you proved yourself to be more than capable of command, an exemplary Starfleet officer, an unyielding idealist, and a person very worthy of my respect and admiration.” Jim couldn't suppress his wide eyes and cheek-splitting smile. _For someone who doesn't lie, that sure was impressive_ , he thought.

“Yeah, well, maybe I'm just less of a sap.” The Captain teased playfully, sweetly, elbowing Spock gently. He could play along, pretend like his heart wasn't hammering damn near out of his chest.

“Perhaps.”

The aliens then continued with more general questions about Human and Vulcan customs, allowing Jim the time to steady his breathing and try to make sense of what had just happened.

Dinner didn't last too long, and when it came to an end the aliens informed them that they had prepared lodgings for them, and told them to follow. Spock and Jim did so, and were brought to a huge, beautiful room. Silk curtains and elegant tapestries decorated the walls, a golden bath was in the corner, and one large bed was placed in the center of the room. As there was no other seating of any kind, and the floor was marble, it looked as though they had no choice when it came to sleeping arrangements. They thanked the Cupiozinths and waited till the preposterously large door was closed, and their footsteps disappeared down the hall the same way they had come, before Jim let out a heavy breath of relief and Spock simply began to pull out clothing for the following day.

“That went far better than I figured it would,” Jim said, flopping down onto his back on the luxurious bed. Spock did not look up.

“Considering your extensive experience in the matter of relationships, I am not sure why you did not assume we would most likely be successful.” As Spock responded, Jim made a face.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you engage in fleeting romantic and physical connections with a greater frequency than myself.”

“You're calling me promiscuous.”

“That word has much more negative connotation than I was suggesting, but, in essence, yes. It benefits our mission at hand, though, so my comment was not meant to cause any offense.”

Jim stood up, walked away from the bed, then spun around and faced Spock with his hands on his hips. He stared a moment, and then raised a hand and pointed his index finger at Spock.

“So if it _didn't_ benefit the present mission you _would_ have meant it with offense.”

“I did not say that.”

“You implied it.”

“Jim—”

“Forget it, you're not wrong. It's just that most people don't care about the love-lives of their friends, so long as they're not hurting anybody, y’know?”

“Yes.”

Jim huffed, dropping his arm and going over to his duffle bag to get out his sleepwear. Better just to let that little argument go, he decided. He licked his lips, thinking, processing the weirdness of the day.

“So, uh,” he cleared his throat, “which side of the bed do you want?” Spock visibly stiffened.

“Vulcans require significantly less rest than other humanoids, Captain, a night of peaceful meditation will be more than sufficient.”

“I'm just supposed to give you a pillow and then take the whole bed, then?” Jim questioned skeptically, still looking at Spock, who, though he seemed to be attempting to make it inconspicuous, was avoiding Jim's gaze.

“That would be fine.”

“It most certainly would not, because I know for a fact that you haven't taken the requisite time to rest or sleep in over three shifts, Commander. Whether the real diplomacy starts tomorrow or the next day, the entire time we’re here we’re representing both of our species and the Federation and Starfleet, you know that. We can’t be at anything less than our best. You need sleep. We’ll share the bed, we can build a pillow-wall between us if you're uncomfortable otherwise, but that's final. Am I clear?” Jim phoned in a little hint of command to his tone, but Spock responded with strict professionalism.

“Yes, Captain. I do not require a wall of pillows. I will take the left side.”

After changing into their sleepwear and crawling into bed, the two faced away from each other and stayed as close to the edges of the bed as possible, avoiding contact.

Their efforts were in vain. 

Spock was the first to wake up the following morning, which at first he found odd considering Jim’s typical insomnia, and then he left that thought behind as he became aware of his surroundings. He was now very close to the center of the bed, and Jim was practically on top of him. One of his arms was across Spock's midsection, and the other was curled against Spock's shoulder. Jim's leg was also hefted across Spock's. Despite his being asleep, the entire position seemed as if Jim was trying to protect Spock. Scared to stir the sleeping Human and deal with the ensuing uncomfortability that would surely come, and also somehow very faintly reluctant to escape their current predicament, Spock shut his eyes again and stayed motionless as if he was still unconscious. He hoped Jim would wake up and be the one to untangle them, and spare them the awkwardness of averting their eyes from one another and shuffling about their business. But he remained snoozing. After about twenty minutes of waiting, Spock gave up and slowly, slowly, carefully extracted himself from Jim's embrace, and climbed to his feet. He dressed for the day, and was just straightening up his belongings when the Captain finally sat up with a yawn and a stretch.

“I see you got a head start, today.” Jim commented in a sleepy voice, shimmying out from under the blankets and sheets. Spock nodded once, a small, sharp nod. Jim pulled his Starfleet tee off over his head and began to rifle through his bag for an unwrinkled uniform shirt. “I wonder what all we’ll have to do for their ‘day of festivities’.” He muttered.

“As do I.” Was the dispassionate reply.

After they were both dressed and presentable and wearing their translators, they emerged from their room in sync. Jim had slipped his hand in Spock's back pocket, which seemed casual and couple-y, but in reality he was straining against the regulation fabric to hold his hand as far back from actually cupping his first officer’s buttcheek as he could, to try to minimize uncomfortability. Unbeknownst to Jim, of course, Spock would have had no qualms with the intimate gesture. Neither said a thing, and a flock of Cupiozinths scurried over and bid the two a cheery good morning.

“It is fortunate you arose, we are just set to begin the first Trial of the Pairs!” In the crowd of aliens, Jim and Spock were washed with the tide of couples to an outdoor part of the central Cupiozinth building.

This Trial turned out to be not unlike a three-legged race, as the inner legs of all participating pairs were bound and the sets of pairs all hobbled as quickly as they could down a track. Jim and Spock merely observed this game, watching as the winners were rewarded with food and gifts. The Cupiozinths demonstrated several other familiar sorts of two-person games and competitions throughout the day as well, and seemed content to let Spock and Jim remain on the sidelines for all of it, until one especially young pair of aliens came up to them, bouncing with excitement. The two spoke in back and forth snippets, trying to get their foreign visitors involved.

“You must try at least one Trial before the ball!” 

“You must!”

“The final Trial is next, it’s the very best. You simply have to join in, really, the pair of you.”

“Yes! It's tradition!” 

Jim raised a hand up to slow the tumultuous words. Spock was already standing up from where they'd been seated to view the events.

“We’d be glad to do a Trial, especially if it's the way you do things. What is the last Trial?” Jim answered as he smiled at both the Cupiozinths and at Spock.

“Come with us, we’ll show you!”

They were lead off again down to a hallway lined with identical doors, and told to each pick one and wait. After a few minutes passed, another pair of Cupiozinths came and handed them both helmets. And then they were told to go into their individual rooms and put them on. A voice boomed from an overhead speaker in Jim’s room, and came out much quieter through his translator.

“The final Trial is the Trial of the Three Truths. The Trial will begin momentarily.”

The room went dark, and Jim's helmet (virtual reality of some sort, it seemed) turned on and started up. But suddenly something shifted. The room became his Captain’s quarters, and Spock sat before him in front of a tridimensional chess board, hands folded over his knee. There was clearly a game in progress, from the positions of the pieces. Spock looked over his shoulder as if he had just noticed him.

“Jim, you've returned. Come take your turn.”

Crossing to Spock, Jim took a seat opposite him, confusion blatant in his expression.

“What's going on?"

“We are playing chess, I am waiting for you to make your move. What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Jim examined the board. “This is just a really weird Trial, is all, not what I expected.”

“Trial?”

“Yeah, the final Trial of the Pairs.”

“I do not know what you are referring to.”

“Oookay, mind games, then. Your turn.” Jim said as he moved his piece. Spock steepled his fingers and studied Jim's move.

“I am still at a loss as to what you are talking about, but I suspect you may be attempting to distract me from our current game, and I must inform you that I won't allow you to be successful.” Jim snorted at Spock.

“I'll still win.” He stated with a crooked grin. Spock looked up. And something strange happened. He smiled. It was tiny, and fleeting, but it happened. Jim had seen him smile before, just a few times, but it had always been in an open, public setting. With the two of them alone, and even pretending to be in his quarters together, it felt… intimate. Spock's eyes met Jim's.

“Possibly.” He admitted. Jim's heart skipped a beat, or at least it felt like it. Spock completed his move.

“Did you just—”

“Your turn, Jim.” 

“Right,” Jim said, looking back to the pieces. His head was spinning. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Are you quite alright? You seem as though there is something you want to say. If I have not on prior occasions made it clear that I am always available if you need to talk about any subject that is affecting you, I would like to do so now.” He was gazing at Jim with curiosity but also, it seemed, with what just couldn't be deep admiration. A thick swallow bobbed down Jim’s throat. He jumped to dismiss the suggestion, shrugging one shoulder.

“I’m fine, it's t–”

“It is just the two of us, if the matter is something that you do not want discussed outside of this room, I am still more than willing to listen.” Jim peeked at Spock through his lashes as he heard this. His small lips remained parted, slightly, after he finished speaking, and Jim had to wrestle his eyes away. Unconsciously, he licked his own lips.

“Spock, what happened to complete focus on our game?”

“Your emotional wellbeing and happiness is of infinitely greater significance to me.” The Vulcan was sitting forward now, closer to Jim, who was finding it harder and harder to keep the warmth spreading in his face, chest, and body in check. He blinked several, rapid times.

“The only thing between me and nirvana is you.” He joked gruffly, a hint of sarcastic tone, a mask. But Spock didn't flinch, didn't budge.

“And why is that?”

“I, well, it's just that, uh…” Jim wasn't sure what to say, not with Spock so near and being so open and so gently interested in Jim sharing his vulnerabilities. “You drive me crazy.” He finally answered, so softly that it was barely above a whisper. It could've been a dig, it was definitely something he'd say across the bridge when the Vulcan was frustrating him, but it wasn't. The way he said it was full of longing, of pining, of something much more than he wanted to acknowledge. And before he even had the time to dwell on it, his surroundings were changing again.

His quarters were gone, and now he was on New Vulcan, outside what looked to be someone’s home. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was in his full dress uniform, several medals decorating his chest. In his hand was a very small box. He opened it, and saw that it contained a ring, and a very unique one, at that. It had a platinum band and was set with an intricately (oddly beautifully, too) cut dilithium crystal. This chilled Jim to his core. He vividly recalled the day that he and Spock had been in engineering on the Enterprise when Scotty was installing new dilithium crystals, and Spock had picked up one of the old ones and waxed poetic about their beauty, which Jim had found both surprising and surprisingly endearing.

A door opened on the house, drawing Jim back to the present. Or rather, since it was hard to tell what was real at the moment and what exactly was happening, to the figure who greeted him. He tucked the box into his pocket. It was Sarek. 

“Hello, James.” Sarek was being casual with him. Spock's dad was being _casual_. Something was off, that was the only explanation Jim could think of.

“Hi, sir. What am I doing here?” The elderly Vulcan lifted a brow.

“I was going to ask you that question, being that it was you that requested meeting with me. Come inside, I made tea, whatever there is to discuss can be discussed while we drink it.”

The interior of Sarek’s home was every bit as pristine and orderly as Jim had expected, however he had not expected the neatly arranged but still excessively large array of holos of Spock and Sarek and Amanda. He passingly wondered how the man still had all of those after his home had been destroyed, and then stopped in his tracks. Grimacing at his own thought, a twinge of pain tugged at Jim's heart as he was reminded of his first officer’s great loss, and of that of the man before him now. He awkwardly tugged at the hem of his dress shirt.

“I'm not sure what I'm here to talk to you about. I'm guessing it has something to do with Spock, but, I honestly don't have a clue what I'm doing.” Jim folded his arms behind him. Sarek moved about his kitchen while he spoke, turning his head slightly to reply over his shoulder as he punched something into a replicator.

“I must admit I was surprised to hear from you. Spock himself does not contact me often, so I hardly expected to hear from his new _ashayam_.” 

“His… what?” Sarek appeared baffled by Jim's confusion as he asked this.

“ _Ashayam_? Forgive me if my assuming that he would call you that is incorrect, I had just deemed it likely as he has told me of the _t’hy’la_ bond between the two of you, and that he has moved into shared living quarters with you.” Said the ambassador. Somehow even more confused than he previously was, Jim sat down.

“He moved into–pardon me, _t’hy’la_? I'm not understanding what you mean, actually, I'm not understanding what any of this means.” Sarek poured two cups of tea, brought them over, and sat adjacent to Jim.

“Spock has not explained Vulcan courting, mating, bonding, and at least some of the associated language, yet? I do not think it is my place to do so. You will have to have a conversation with him.” _Courting? Mating?_ Jim could understand _those_ words perfectly, and yet he was no less lost. In fact his utter lack of comprehension of what was occurring was increasing and astounding even to himself.

“I sure will have to,” Jim mumbled, brows furrowed, spacing out as his eyes stared into his teacup.

“I must admit that my initial prediction was that you had come to ask for my blessing for you to commence with a Terran marriage proposal, as was the tradition that Amanda suggested I adhere to when I first attempted to ask her to wed. If that is or was the case, James, I must tell you that my permission can hardly mean much to my child who never did things because I instructed him to do them. Regardless, I do believe that you will be good to and for Spock, so you have my support.”

Jim almost screamed. _**Marriage?**_ He felt faint.

“Why would I be here to do that?” He questioned breathlessly. Sarek frowned.

“You love him. That is, of course, unless I am sorely mistaken. You do love Spock, do you not?”

The silent moments that Jim let pass felt like an eternity, even for someone so often entrenched in drama as he was. He felt as if the blood in his veins had slowed. Sarek didn't seem to mind the wait.

“I do.” Jim choked out. Instantly, Spock's father seemed to evaporate. The tea was gone, so was the house on New Vulcan.

The scenery changed into a starship’s engineering section, engulfed in flame and rattling like hell. Alarms and sirens wailed, systems beeped and some shut down altogether. Nearby an empty escape pod was waiting, seeming still fully operational. Jim rushed to a functioning console and tried to discern if there was anyone still on the ship. The screen showed one life form other than himself, on the bridge. Somehow, call it one of his gut feelings–a hunch, he just _knew_.

He ran with all of his strength. When he got there, Spock was on the floor in a heap, unconscious but alive. Bridge consoles screamed, telling him that destruction of the ship was imminent. He scooped Spock up, taking as much of his weight as he could onto his shoulders. The Vulcan’s feet still dragged on the floor. Limping to check the ship’s systems to find the nearest escape pod, he almost crumpled in defeat when he was informed that there was only one remaining– the one back in engineering. He hauled Spock onto a turbolift, and traced his footsteps back as quickly as he could when it arrived on the right deck. The pod could only safely fit one humanoid, so without a second thought he tucked Spock inside. He lingered just briefly to look at his face, and then slammed the button to release the pod from the ship, stepping back as the door slammed sealed and Spock was launched to safety.

The simulation shut down and Jim was back in the darkened room. The force of returning to true reality hit him so hard that he fell backward, just as a Cupiozinth opened the door to congratulate him, causing him to tumble out into the hall where a few others were waiting.

“You did spectacular! The strength of your pair is impressive, even amongst Cupiozinths!” One cheered beside their smiling partner. Jim was still huffing and gasping to catch his breath on the marble floor, ripping the helmet off and tossing it up to them.

“That was so… so real… and how did… how did it know what…. how did it work?” Before the attending Cupiozinths could give him any of the information he wanted, the door to the room Spock had been in opened, and he stepped calmly into the hallway. The aliens didn't seem to notice him right away. Jim shut his eyes, rubbing them with the heels of his palms.

“You did marvelous! You passed all three Tests of Truth within the final Trial with great speed and comprehensiveness!” 

“What are the Three Truths on which we were being tried?” Spock asked. Jim spared a glance at his face as he clambered to his feet, noticing a green hue spread from one ear-tip, across his cheeks and nose, to the other.

“The first Test of Truth asks you to confess something which you have not previously told the other half of your pair. The confession does not have to be spoken, but our Test will know if it is properly conveyed in another sense.” Explained one Cupiozinth. Another, who's hand was at the first’s hip, piped up next.

“The second Truth is to profess love verbally in a situation and in a way which you never anticipated you would. Not every pair is able to pass this section, what with how inseparable we are! Sometimes there aren't any ways left!”

“Lastly,” the alien who had started the explaining spoke again, “the final Test of the Trial of Three Truths examines the claim of love that the pair has made, and demands that you prove it.”

That was a kick in the gut. ‘ _You prove it_ ’.

Wide-eyed, Jim turned away. He couldn't look at Spock, couldn't see him looking at him, couldn't face what had just been so trivially announced.

“That's fantastic. Can’t wait for the ball. I think I need to go lay down, for a bit.” Jim dashed off, leaving the confused Cupiozinths and the stricken Vulcan to listen as his retreating footsteps reverberated off the polished floor and walls.

He stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time, and fell asleep that way before Spock entered the room a while later. The Science officer changed into formal, traditional Vulcan garb, and debated attending the ball by himself before he approached the sleeping Captain.

“Jim,” he placed a hand on the Human’s shoulder. Jim woke up immediately, jolting slightly, but refused to catch Spock's gaze. He looked off into the far corner of the room. “The ball has just commenced, to be late would be disrespectful and could damage our diplomatic relationship with the Cupiozinths.”

“I'll get ready right now, go down and I'll meet you there. That's an order.” He said without even turning his head toward Spock. 

“Yes, Captain.”

Jim waited until he heard the door close behind the other before he even got out of bed.

At the ball, the Cupiozinths seemed repulsed by the idea that Jim had not come to the soirée with Spock. Doing his best to maintain cordiality, Spock informed them that the Trial had taken a lot out of both of them, and that their unique culture, while fascinating, was not uniform throughout the galaxy, and also that the Captain would arrive shortly. In other words, he was struggling with his emotional restraint. He could not stand the thought that the iciness Jim had spoken to him with before he'd come down alone might be a new and permanent feature of their professional relationship. It was eating him at his core. And it was all because he had successfully passed the Cupiozinths’ Trial, all three parts, and Jim had heard. 

In his full dress uniform, this time for real rather than virtually, with freshly styled hair, Jim descended the staircase that led to the ballroom. Cupiozinth pairs from all around the room turned to look at him, and so, it stung him to see, did Spock. As he reached the dance floor, he painted on his charming persona, grabbing a glass of what seemed like the Cupiozinth’s closest relative of champagne, and practically waltzed his way through the crowds.

“Apologies for disappearing on you all, earlier! I'm back now to take full advantage of the lovely food, drink, music, and company you're very kindly providing us this evening.” He announced his ‘sorry’ loud enough that his translator could be heard over the bustle of the party and his words would spread through the pairs of dancing Cupiozinths. Spock offered his hand for a dance just as he approached.

“You don't have to do that, I know what that means for you. We can just mingle.” He said under his breath. Spock shook his head.

“I believe that may appear suspicious after the events that followed the Trial.” So Jim took his hand.

They spun about the room, weaving in between pairs, floating gracefully across the ballroom, Spock leading. Jim stared blankly out at the hoards of Cupiozinths, and felt Spock's stare burning into the side of his face. He let a long breath out his nose.

“I wasn't aware you could dance, Commander.”

“Nor was I aware that you were capable of following with such skill, Captain.”

Silence between the two of them, even as the room was filled with chatter in Cupiozinian and music that swelled louder almost with each passing song, hung heavily as they continued to whirl about elegantly. Several aliens chirped and clucked pleasantly at them as they danced by.

“I would like for us to address the Final Trial.” Spock sounded like he was pleading, quietly. Jim still wouldn't look at him.

“I would like for us to not do that.” This didn't stop Spock.

“I understand it was completely beyond the boundaries I assured you we would not cross when I convinced you to deceive the Cupiozinths, for us to participate in a Trial about which I had no information, and that the results of which were so very personal and inappropriate. I should not have allowed their equipment to access my mind so easily, and I should not have allowed the Test to leave you so distraught and uncomfortable. Know that it is my utmost regret that I did not prevent these circumstances. I understand that you may wish to file fraternization or harassment reports as soon as we are back aboard the Enterprise, and to do so would be well within your rights. Furthermore, I f–” 

“Stop, hold on, what? _I_ would want to file r–wait. You passed all three trials?” Spock immediately flushed a faint emerald.

“Yes, I am sorry, Captain. I had believed that your overhearing the Cupiozinth’s congratulation to me was what caused you to flee and respond to me coldly. Was that not the case?”

“I assumed they were still talking to _me_ , telling me that _I_ had passed all three!” Jim's voice accidentally rose, and his words were repeated through his translation device in Cupiozinian, just as the pair who'd overseen their trial happened to swish past.

“Our cheering was directed at the both of you! You both succeeded, proving how very strong your pairing is!” Called out one of the set, at which point Jim finally turned and faced Spock, looking at him dead on. Both men had warm cheeks and a look of rapture in their gazes at one another.

“We both… _proved_ it.” Jim nearly whispered.

“It appears that we did.” Spock concurred.

“What exactly did you see in there? What happened?” Jim asked, and Spock arched his brow.

“I would prefer that we not get into that right now. Let’s just enjoy our new revelation and this ball, shall we?”

“Deal.”

The ball lasted late into the night, after which the Cupiozinths informed Jim and Spock that they were thoroughly convinced of their, Starfleet’s, and the Federation’s trustworthiness. They even said a full diplomatic party could be sent down for the next day, and an ambassador from Starfleet HQ could be requested for a more long term arrangement. Satisfied that they had been successful, they returned to the room they'd been given to use, and with tentative, thrilled smiles on their faces as they undressed for the evening, they had no issue sharing the bed that night. 

Jim made a mental note to write the Cupiozinths a ‘thank you’ letter.


	2. Spock's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock's point of view of the trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I got so many comments asking for this I finally got off my butt and did it, I hope it lives up to the expectations !!!

Upon the door to the Trial room closing behind him, Spock put on the helmet he had been given. He wondered exactly what it was that Jim had volunteered them for, briefly, before the sound of a Cupiozinth speaker of some sort came on over a PA system. Vague instructions were translated through to Spock, but he had already gathered a slight idea of what was in store. A simulation of some kind. He did not expect it to be very impressive.

“The Trial will begin momentarily.” The announcement finished. Almost directly followed by the lights going out and the program initiating. 

Spock's helmet turned the barren room into his Captain’s personal quarters. Even the temperature now felt like the exact slightly warmer than normal environmental control settings Jim always used for whenever Spock came by his room. Despite him knowing better, rationally, Spock was almost convinced he'd been beamed back aboard the Enterprise. Jim was sitting behind a tridimensional chess board across the room, grinning up at him.

“Ready to play?” Jim asked. Spock moved toward the table where the board rested. This was not what he had expected from the Cupiozinth’s Trial.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, taking a seat before his Captain. “I am prepared to play a round or two, yes. Do you wish to begin or shall I?”

“I'll go.” Jim made a face as he thought for a moment, before grabbing a piece and making his first move. Spock calculated the best next step before he took his turn.

“I do not recall us scheduling a time to engage in a game of chess today.” Said Spock, watching as Jim moved another piece.

“I think we set the date after our most recent near-death experience. Had something to do with enjoying life while we’re alive. Hence, more chess. D’ya have other plans, instead, Commander?”

“No, Jim.” Simulated Jim was fairly believable, and it seemed they'd programmed him with explanations for the present scenario. Interesting. The replicated/falsification of the Human smiled.

“Good.”

They continued playing, not saying much but to tease one another about the moves they chose to make every once in a while, just enjoying the challenge of a game against a worthy opponent. After around what seemed like 15 minutes of uninterrupted gameplay, simulated Jim's communicator chirped at him. He picked it up and answered with a ‘mhm’ and then stood.

“I'll be right back. I trust you to go and not cheat while I'm gone, and when I come back I'm gonna defeat you.” He said, playfully pointing a finger at Spock. When Spock nodded, Jim left the room.

For the first few minutes he was gone, Spock sat quietly. But after that he became curious if there was something else he needed to do in order to complete the Trial. He got up and decided to explore. He may have even left the room in search, if he hadn't bumped into a PADD sitting on Jim’s desk while looking around and accidentally activated a playback of the last recorded personal log.

“Maybe Pike was right. Maybe I'm not really cut out for this, maybe I don't have what it takes yet. I want it so badly, though, and I'm really trying. I just… I feel lonely with the distance command has put between me and everyone who was my friend before I became their superior officer. And I think I could handle it if it was just _that_ , but then there's the thing with anti-fraternization policy stopping me from g–“ 

Hearing the swish of the door opening, Spock scrambled to turn off the recording and return to his seat, innocently folding his hands on his knee and looking up at Jim as he strode back into his quarters. 

“Jim, you've returned. Come take your turn.” The face he flashed at Spock as he made his way over and returned to their game was so very truly Jim that Spock began to wonder if maybe this was the real Jim he was sitting across from, if perhaps only the setting and situation was simulated. He hypothesized some sort of neural link, or that they had been hypnotized by the program in the helmets, their perception of time passing altered or inhibited, and placed in a room of physical holograms together. He was searching for a simple explanation. But one was not coming easily, because nothing quite made sense. Jim (or maybe not Jim?) was able to tell that his mental gears were churning, or at least that he wasn't entirely present.

“You've got an odd look in your eyes, Mr. Spock. I’m thinking you're trying a new strategy: mind games.” He said. Spock shook his head. Jim eyed him suspiciously, adding “Your turn.” Spock steepled his fingers and studied the human’s move.

“I am at a loss as to what you are talking about, but I suspect you may be attempting to distract me from our current game, and I must inform you that I won't allow you to be successful.” Spock replied, trying to keep his Captain from guessing what he was hiding. Jim snorted.

“I'll still win.” He shot back with a lopsided smirk. The tone, the quickness of the reply, the upturning of his lips, in that moment it was too much. Spock, only momentarily, couldn't help but to smile. And it did not escape Jim's notice. Attempting to prevent comment, Spock spoke.

“Possibly.” He responded to Jim’s confident statement, completing his move, and hoping to remove attention from his momentary lapse in anti-emotionality. It did not work.

“Did you just—“

“Your turn, Jim.” Spock said quickly. Jim seemed to collect himself, to retreat back into a cool persona. The shift worried Spock.

“Right,” Jim said, staring at the board. Spock arched a brow. Suddenly, he figured that since the Trial had to do with truth, perhaps he needed to persuade Jim into telling him about what he had accidentally overheard in his personal log.

“Are you quite alright?” Spock asked, genuinely concerned. “You seem as though there is something you want to say. If I have not on prior occasions made it clear that I am always available if you need to talk about any subject that is affecting you, I would like to do so now.” Jim shrugged.

“I’m fine, it’s t–“

“It is just the two of us, if the matter is something that you do not want discussed outside of this room, I am still more than willing to listen.” Spock added, for clarity. Jim sat blankly for a moment, and then licked his lips. Spock ignored the goosebumps that rose on his skin.

“Spock, what happened to complete focus on our game?” This attempt at redirection did not shake Spock.

“Your emotional wellbeing and happiness is of infinitely greater significance to me.” He stated simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. And actually, it did feel very easy to share, which surprised Spock deeply. Something was happening. The Captain’s quarters felt as though they were twisting, changing. Perhaps it had been Spock who had a truth to share, after all. Jim was blinking wildly.

“The only thing between me and nirvana,” he joked in a dark tone, trying to return an air of joviality to the emotional tension that hung in the air, “is you.”

“And why is that?” Spock asked, remaining clinically focused on how serious his interest in Jim’s current state of being was. This seemed almost to chip away at a mask that Spock was only beginning to realize his Captain was wearing, which caused the slightest fluctuation in his heartbeat, as he came to realize, too, how incredibly similar they were in some ways.

“I, well, it's just that, uh… You drive me crazy.” This was no insult. Even Spock, who often took the wrong things literally, knew this. There was no way it could be anything close to an insult considering the amount of breathless tenderness it was said with. Spock had no time to analyze the meaning, however, because before the words were even fully out of Jim’s mouth the room was disintegrating around them, morphing into a new location.

And the sight of the new location immediately chilled him to the bone. He was several dozen feet from the warp core decontamination chamber, and the loud shouting of crew members, crackling of broken technology, and chaos of recent explosions and hull breaches rang in his ears. He knew where and when he was supposed to be. Somehow, despite knowing he’d never left the Cupiozinth simulation, it felt as if he was really in that awful day again. He sprinted the short distance that remained, though it felt like he moved in slow motion, and surely enough, there was Jim, sunken to the floor and leaning against the glass barrier outside the warp core. His weary, pained blue eyes looked up to Spock with a twinkle of warmth. He heard the echo of himself demanding that Scotty open the chamber, and then being told a painfully logical reason why that could not be done.

Spock dropped to his knees. Jim coughed, rocking a little where he sat, and causing Spock to touch at the glass, wishing he could reach in and support him. When Jim had calmed his breathing just a bit, he looked at Spock again.

“How’s our ship?” He asked in a strained whisper. Spock felt stabs of pain at the sound of his Captain’s question.

“Out of danger. You saved the crew.” He assured. Almost imperceptibly, the corners of Jim’s lips upturned at this.

“You used what Khan wanted against him,” he said in a raspy voice, “that’s a nice move.” 

“It is what you would’ve done.” Spock replied, trying to keep his words even and cool. Jim was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“And this, this is what you would’ve done.” He said softly, forcing himself to look up again so he could peer into Spock’s eyes. “It was only logical.”

It was as if an icy hand had wrapped itself around Spock’s heart and was squeezing as tightly as it could as he knelt there, staring back at Jim’s bloodshot gaze. As if every heartbeat was building to some kind of malfunction. Jim drew a breath.

“I’m scared, Spock.” He confessed breathlessly. “Help me not be.” As the human spoke, tears welled up in Spock’s eyes and he felt a quiver in his lips and in the furrow of his brows. Jim was wheezing down another shaky intake of air. “How do you choose not to feel?”

“I do not know.” Spock said truthfully. He sniffled the tiniest, involuntary sniffle. “Right now I am failing.”

The look on Jim’s face was agonizing. He looked like he wanted to comfort Spock, in the moment. Like the concern for his rapidly deteriorating health was the last thing on his mind. How could he look like that? How could he possibly look like that right now?

“I want you to know why I went back for you, why I couldn’t let you die…” Jim choked out.

“Because you are my friend.” Spock finished for him, _told_ him, a fat teardrop falling down his cheek. Jim struggled to get his hand up onto the glass, and Spock was suddenly flooded with a sense that he’d been rereading a script of that terrible event, up until that very second, as if he’d just been rewatching Jim’s last minutes unfold instead of actively saying and doing what he’d done that day. 

But that was gone. And Spock, feeling that he’d been handed a second chance, was not going to let it go exactly as it had. He pressed his hand against Jim’s through the glass, their fingers aligned in two perfect _ta’als_ , and he spoke quickly.

“You are my friend, Jim, and you are more. I love you. It is as you said. It is not logical, it doesn’t make sense, it is a gut feeling. But it is real and it is true and it is the most powerful thing I have ever felt, my _t’hy’la_. Please know how much I care about you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He admitted this with reverence, like it was scripture and he was a holy man. He said it so gently, so passionately, so _lovingly_. It was a relief to finally say it. A tear snuck out of Jim’s eyes, and his mouth was trying to smile again.

“I l–l-l…” he tried to say one last thing, but he’d used all his strength to keep his hand up with Spock’s. He couldn’t get it out, couldn’t finish his last words. He couldn’t tell Spock whether he felt the same. His eyes dropped closed, not flickering open again, and his hand slid down to the bottom of the chamber door. His breathing ceased abruptly, slamming to a stop. Spock felt the vice grip on his heart squeeze the organ into dust within him. 

A volcano of hurt erupted inside of him, spreading through every inch of his body, to the very tips of his fingers. He was so lost that he almost didn’t hear himself screaming out the name of the man who was at fault for the loss of Jim as the world faded out again.

Spock nearly gasped when he was tossed into a new setting, the sudden absence of the oppressive pain and anger and heartbreak of the previous scene feeling like a bucket of icewater over his head, shocking and refreshing. It was all over. Now he was in a sterile, warm, industrial sort of hallway. Jim was beside him, alive and well, mid-sentence, and they were walking. Where to, Spock hadn’t the faintest. But Jim was explaining something and Spock was trying to listen carefully so he could catch up on what was happening and where they were.

“…that’s that. So, as much as I’d love to get our hands on the scientific advancements they can offer us, I’ve gotta tell them there’s not really a way they can use my body if we’re not sure we can do, like, a comprehensive save file of my personality and stuff. I mean, I think it’s a worth while risk but since Starfleet is still mad at me about, _y’know_ , and everything, and since I wouldn’t ask anyone else on the ship to be the first to test having their persona or whatever removed and stored in an alien orb thing, there’s just no way to do it just yet, until we—” Spock stopped in his stride, and Jim did too, shutting up and widening his eyes in question at his first officer. Spock quirked a brow as he opened his mouth to share what he was thinking.

“It might be possible for me to store the essence of your being within me, if that is what is necessary to proceed with the mission at hand.”

“Wh- what? You can just do that? How?” Jim was looking at him intensely, curiously. Spock took a breath.

“There is a Vulcan practice through which one’s _katra_ – the closest cognate in Standard is ‘soul’–can be removed and placed elsewhere, as well as a ritual called _fal-tor-pan_ that allows it to be rejoined with the body from whence it came. I don’t know if this procedure would be possible with a human, and it can be dangerous even for Vulcans, but it is an option to be considered.” Jim was nodding as Spock spoke.

“Hell yeah it is! I’m game. How would we find out if it’s possible? Is there something I need to do?”

“I suppose,” Spock paused, “the only preliminary precautionary measure we could take to evaluate the possibility and safety of such a course of action would be for me to mind meld with you and assess how to handle your consciousness.” Without hint of hesitation Jim opened his mouth to reply.

“Let’s do it.”

Spock was unsure. He did not believe that his Captain was fully informed of what he was easily committing to.

“If we are to do a complete mind meld, I will know all of your thoughts, memories, and feelings, and you may know mine as well, as I am not thoroughly trained in the precision and self-concealment typically used in this procedure.” Spock explained. A momentary shimmer of fear colored Jim before melting away into a determined resolve.

“I trust you.” Cracking a smile, he added, “Implicitly.” Spock’s heartbeat stuttered.

“Shall I proceed?”

“Yep.” Jim popped the ‘p’, oozing nonchalance.

The way Jim’s eyes fluttered shut instinctually as Spock pressed his fingers to his face affected Spock’s concentration, momentarily, and then he forced himself to focus. Right away he felt like he was hit with a ray of sunlight, Jim’s consciousness was a pleasant searing of warmth and brightness against his own. It was as though he’d been needing to do this, his mind silently screaming for it all along. Like this was inevitable. But quite soon after he initiated the meld, he heard Jim gasp and he pulled away immediately, fearing he’d hurt him somehow.

“Are you alright?” Spock asked quickly. Jim was flushed, breathing heavily, with eyes wide and flashing, but he was smiling like mad. The hallway and Jim were both fading from Spock’s view, but before he was completely gone the human whispered one last thing, sounding, strangely, _elated_.

“So you _do_ feel.”

 _He knew_.

With the simulation fully shut down, Spock collapsed to his knees. He had been through highs and lows in his life that he hadn’t been able to properly cope with like a Vulcan and the test had used them and shattered his emotional control. It was rough to go through in such a short amount of time. He felt almost exhausted after such an experience. Undoing his helmet, he remained quiet and didn’t leave the room right away so that he could take a moment to regain himself. He took a few deep breaths.

When Spock initially emerged from his trial room, the very first thing that caught his eye was that Jim was lying on the floor. He intended to ascertain the reason and ensure that his Captain was alright, but as the human rubbed his eyes, the Cupiozinths turned their attention to Spock and he gave them his in return. They greeted him with enthusiasm.

“You did marvelous! You passed all three Tests of Truth within the final Trial with great speed and comprehensiveness!” Cheered a Cupiozinth.

This was not sufficient information, but he already was experiencing slight panic. If the real Jim found out what had happened in his testing room…

“What are the Three Truths on which we were being tried?” He asked, face hot. Jim got up from the ground and peeked at him.

“The first Test of Truth asks you to confess something which you have not previously told the other half of your pair. The confession does not have to be spoken, but our Test will know if it is properly conveyed in another sense. The second Truth is to profess love verbally in a situation and in a way which you never anticipated you would. Not every pair is able to pass this section, what with how inseparable we are! Sometimes there aren't any ways left! Lastly, the final Test of the Trial of Three Truths examines the claim of love that the pair has made, and demands that you prove it.”

 _Prove it_. Spock felt weak. Jim turned away from him and he felt his heart aching again.

“That's fantastic. Can’t wait for the ball. I think I need to go lay down, for a bit.” The Captain said as he ran away, leaving Spock standing alone with a semi-masked brokenness on his face amongst the Cupiozinths. 

He wandered the halls in a state of dissociation, trying to process and cope with everything that had happened, for just under two hours before heading back toward the room where he knew he’d have to face Jim.


End file.
